Page 25 of Trade Deadline

“Hey, welcome! How can I help you?” He asks.

Zach goes straight to the glass cabinet, crouching down like yesterday, his gaze bouncing from all the different cookies, cupcakes, and donuts. I scan the shop, hoping Alex will appear, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Fuck. Did I miss him? Does he not work on Tuesdays?

“Is Alex here?” I blurt.

The guy's eyebrows go up. “Uh, he’s just stepped out. Is there anything I can help with? Would you like me to pass on a message?”

Maybe fate isn’t on my side after all.

I’m about to open my mouth to tell him not to worry about it when Elliot beats me to it.

“My brother here would like to court Alex.”

My head snaps to my brother. Court? Are we in eighteenth-century England?

“The fuck, El?”

Elliot shushes me with a finger to his lips and waves his hand to be quiet. The guy looks kinda startled when he steps up to the counter.

“Blaine and Alex met a few nights ago, and when we came in yesterday, Blaine asked him on a date, but he said no.” Elliot chuckles. “You should have seen his face; he was like a sad puppy. Anyway, my broski here would like to ask Alex on another date because it seems he’s playing a bit hard to get.”

The guy's brows drop into a deep frown. His eyes roam over me, but it doesn’t feel like he’s checking me out. It feels judgmental, like I’m under inspection.

“I can’t answer for my brother, but I can let him know you’ve stopped by.” His tone is a little dismissive.

Brother? Oh fuck.

Wow, way to make a good impression, Olsen.

My stomach churns with unease. If his brother doesn’t like me—for whatever reason—this is going to ruin my chances. Alex isn’t going to give me a second thought. I’ve gotta think fast.

“Can you give him a message?”

He nods.

“Can you let him know there’ll be two tickets for tonight’s game waiting for him at will call?”

I don’t miss the way his eyes widen slightly before quickly schooling his features. “Sure, I’ll let him know.”

Once Zach finally chooses his two donuts, Alex still isn’t back. It would be weird to hang around any longer, and I need my pre-game nap. Admitting defeat, we head back to my Range Rover, and I fire off a text to the Thunder’s PR manager, Colleen, praying she sees it in time to help me out.

Blaine

Col, babe, I need your help.

Blaine

Can you leave two tickets at will call for Alex?

Blaine

IDK his last name. Put Alex from Jacob's Delicious Desserts?

Colleen

No problem.

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